First page - Evil Elvis

Who is Evil Elvis?

I was born in the part of America that belonged to the Otoe-Missouria Indian Tribe around 1860 or so. That's when the Indian's had it, not when I was born. My birth took place in the same year that color television was introduced to the world.

I remember very little of my childhood. Speculation as to why can run rampant. I do know I had a good childhood. No abuse of any kind. Well, there was that snipe hunting incident in 1957 but I've pretty much forgiven the Old Man for that. I had, and still have, good parents. Wouldn't have traded them for someone else's. Ever.

Between birth and high school, there are many adventures young Elvis was involved in. Some I can recall, others are dim memories. I learned that dirt clods the size of grapefruits can cause lacerations to your friends head. I learned that the greatest toy I had was my mind and imagination, at least until I discovered that little hangy down thing between my legs. I learned that that there are dog's that exist that actually do eat shit. And somewhere in there I learned that those bumps on a girl's chest not only looked good, they felt good, especially when they were bare.

High school began somewhere in north central Texas and continued in St. Louis, MO, Alomogordo, NM and then back to Texas. First saw a .45 Colt in a school locker in St. Louis. Wasn't mine. Also learned about drinking Shlitz and cutting school in St. Louis. Most importantly, I learned that the Old Man could hold me a foot above the floor with one arm and talk quietly. He never talked quietly. Very scary. Had to do with cutting school for two weeks straight.

Alamogordo is where I gained my interest in Harley's. Actually, that isn't true. Somewhere between 1956-58 my Uncle gave me ride on his K-Model. Never forgot that sound. Always knew I'd have one of my own. Alamogordo in 1967 was during the begining of the "biker movies", The Wild Angels, Angels Unchained, yada yada. All before EasyRider. Saw them all.

Me and my buddies had grand idea's of getting chopped harley's and terrerozing the state. We even formed an MC, Loser's Poeple. Was supposed to be Loser's People but I mispelled People on the first t-shirt and we decided to leave it. The "gang" had one motorcycle, mine. A 1967 Honda Trail 50. One member did score an old 45 from an airmen that was being transferred. It was about half way chopped and wouldn't start. Three of us spent an afternoon taking turns kicking on the motherfucker. Results? The owner was launched over the apes at one point, another guy had the heel ripped off of his Beatle boots. I limped around for two days afterward with a sore knee. If only we had understood the concept of an advance. Hey, at least we had the desire.

The Honda 50 was the first, and last, bike engine I ever tore down completely, reassembled and it worked! I graduated from the Honda to a Bridgestone 90. Fast little fuck. Then briefly to my Dad's Moto Guzzi 125 Sprint America. The cc rating climbed from there. One of the scariest, as far as fast scary, bikes I ever had was a 1984 Honda Sabre 750. Solid black, cafe-racer style fairing, extremely quick. If you weren't ready for IMMEDIATE acceleration when you twisted the throttle, you would end up on the ground. Make ya wet your drawers. That thing spooked me so I sold it.

Life progressed and so did my desire for a Harley. Never was quite able to reach that goal though. Jap bikes were cheaper and got me in the wind but, there was just something missing. After many years and many missed oportunites (we can't afford a Harley!, the price of a Harley will put the kids through college, you'll put your eye out...), my dream never died.

High school was finished in Texas. I graduated in 1969. The event was over-shadowed by some guy stomping around on the moon. Started college, stopped, started, stopped, etc. Maybe have a total of 37 hours. Never actually figured out a major. Made high marks in writing. Go figure.

Drew #042 during the 1970 draft. Military, not pro ball. Received notice to report for the physical in 1971. Had always wanted to be a Marine so, during the 3 hour bus ride to Amarillo, TX for the physical, I decided I would become a Marine. After the physical, an Army surgeon told me congratulations because I was going home. Too blind. I argued with him until he threatened to have me carried out. I was pissed. Tried every branch of the service after that over the next 16 years. Had to give up when I hit 36. I am now secure in the knowledge that being 1Y, I will be called up if we are ever invaded. By Martians.

Even though ALL of the Vets who served in Viet Nam (Thank you Guys) have told me I was lucky not to have been inducted, I will always feel I missed something important.

There was a kid on that bus ride that had a foot and half tall stack of medical records, x-rays and letters from mayors and congressmen. He said his Dad had promised him he wouldn't have to be in the service and fight in an unjust war. The kid was drafted and probably got sent to Vietnam. For many years I hoped that he had indeed went over there and got his ass shot off. About 15 years ago I realized what a fucked up attitude that was. I really hope the guy served without any problems.

I have worked as a maintenance controller (figure that one out), laborer, carpenter, roofer, oil patch truck driver (18 wheel tanker full of raw gasoline over roads 4-wheelers fear), oil well cementer (?), zoo keeper (raised a tiger that tried to eat me), convenience store clerk, jailer (there are some strange people in jail), security guard (shot a door), engineering technician, systems support specialist and who knows what else. The period between 1969 and 1977 are a bit foggy.

Been married twice. First time in 1971 for about 5 years. She kept taking off and coming back, screwing every guy she met. Finally divorced her. 33 years later, she came back into my life, became my best friend and roommate and then left again. Seems she hadn't changed that much over 30 years. At least the last time, she told me she was leaving. Oh well, never again. If you'd like to see a picture of her best asset, send me email and ask. Pretty nice actually.

The second time I was married to the anti-christ. Two daughters by the first marriage, one son by the second. The daughters cause me grief. The son is a hard working, responsible husband and father and is thinking about joining the Marines. In the middle of a war! He wants the training so he can become a cop when he gets out. Poor kid thinks like his old man.

I currenly live in northern California. Or, as I lovingly refer to it, the People's Republic of California. I love the countryside here. There is what is referred to as a "living" volcano to the east of me. Here is a more recent view of Lassen Peak taken a few miles from my house. I also have a shot taken about 4K feet from the summit. There is a sleeping volcano to the north. She is said to be sleeping because she last errupted over 250 years ago. According to the Indians. Anyone ever met a 200+ year old anyone? In any case, this is how she looks from the street about 3 miles from my house. Can't take these pictures from my house because this house sort of sits in sort of a hole. The Pacific Ocean is roughly 150 miles to the west. The scary part of California starts about 150 miles south of me.

My roommate since 1997 has been my 92-year old Grandmother. Not sure who looks out after who. She is the best roommate I have ever had. Not sure she considers me the same but at least she hasn't run me off. She has two cats, Butch and Samantha. She says they are my cats. She takes care of them. Either way, they are pretty cool.

In 1996 I lost my mind. Really. SchizoAffective Disorder, Bipolar Type. In laymen's terms, I'm a manic depressive that sometimes see's and hears things that aren't really there. Evil Elvis is mentally ill. Scary huh. I am on Social Security disability because of this. Would rather not be as I was raised with a very strong work ethic and have worked all my life. It is a difficult thing to accept the fact you are now one of the people you used to make fun of. I have major problems remembering and focusing on things. Sometimes I see and hear things that aren't really there. So far, I have been able to convince myself that those things aren't real. So far. Modern pharmaceuticals help. I think. Really scary, huh. Wanna introduce me to your daughter?

Taught myself how to build web pages. Took about 3 weeks. During that 3 weeks, I slept a total of maybe 63 hours out of 504. Most people will sleep around 147 hours out of 504. This is the manic part of being bipolar. I do not recommend this method of learning.

I had already spent 14 years in the computer industry. Even with that much experience, because of the disability, it will sometimes take me several days to put together a single page, even with the software that damn near does it for you.

By the way, I'm not fishing for sympathy here. Please don't email me and tell me how sorry you feel for me. There are those who are a hell of lot worse off. I know, I have been in the hospital with them. I'm quite happy with my life. The only things that I really miss are reading, playing softball (best catcher there EVER was) and sex. Getting a Shovelhead, or just head, would cure ALL of that.

I first climbed on a Harley at the age of 6. Or was it 7. Not real sure. Never forgot the ride or the sound. My Uncle's K-Model. Always knew I would have one. Didn't know it would take almost 40 years to get it. Owned and rode many bikes between 1967 and 2001. Was even given a 1 year old Honda Saber 750 once. Scary fast. Didn't like the way it felt so I sold it. To a cop!

Then I found Angel. She is my first Harley. A 1996 XL1200. Mini apes, forward controls, FLHT fuel tank, wide glide front end, custom front and rear fenders, too much chrome and a paint job that only could have done by the previous owner. I would never pick that color. Wait. I did when I bought her. Neve mind.

Two weeks after I got her, I decided to make a little 120 mile trip by myself. Mistake. Hadn't ridden in almost 8 years. Half way through the ride, I rode straight through a left hand sweeper. Never have figured out why. Probably fatigue. Angel took over $7K in damage. This is where her new paint came from. This is Angel now. Well, I have cut the exhuast to 36" so there is a tiny difference.

Me? Almost $20K in damage. Actually, not that much damage. Dislocated left shoulder, swollen, but not broken, right leg. Sucker was swole (it is too a word!) up for almost a year. Still slightly numb. Strong bones. The last disc in my spine was sort of shoved into the nerve bundle and is still shoved there. Not much they can do about it 'cept for hydrocodone every 6 hours. Just found out that the tendon running from the back of the shoulder through the shoulder joint to the arm, the one that helps you raise your arm, was severed in the accident. The accident was 09/05/2001. That would explain why the pain from the dislocated shoulder never went away. Duh. Now I have gobble Celebrex every day. Oh boy, another medication to take.

Look around the site. If you have something you want to say to me, use the email link (the one that says EMAIL). I will add thngs here from time to time..

July 7, 2005

I have constructed websites other than this one. One or two are actually kind of good. I also take care of them. Well, I try to anyway.

Wheels-For-Warriors.Org
Gary's Motorcycle Service Center
Calypso Cycle

United Bikers of Northern California

Thunder Rolls for Charity

I first experienced the Internet in 1982. No browsers, no graphics, no popups. You had to know exactly where you wanted to go and type it in, all of it. Some of the addresses were v-e-r-y long. Just thought I'd relate that for no apparent reason.

Maybe I'll write more later.

There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in women. Chief among these is the Mercedes-Benz 380SL convertible.

Who is Evil Elvis? I was born in the part of America that belonged to the Otoe-Missouria Indian Tribe around 1860 or so. That's when the Indian's had it, not when I was born. My birth took place in the same year that color television was introduced to the world. I remember very little of my childhood. Speculation as to why can run rampant. I do know I had a good childhood. No abuse of any kind. Well, there was that snipe hunting incident in 1957 but I've pretty much forgiven the Old Man for that. I had, and still have, good parents. Wouldn't have traded them for someone else's. Ever. Between birth and high school, there are many adventures young Elvis was involved in. Some I can recall, others are dim memories. I learned that dirt clods the size of grapefruits can cause lacerations to your friends head. I learned that the greatest toy I had was my mind and imagination, at least until I discovered that little hangy down thing between my legs. I learned that that there are dog's that exist that actually do eat shit. And somewhere in there I learned that those bumps on a girl's chest not only looked good, they felt good, especially when they were bare. High school began somewhere in north central Texas and continued in St. Louis, MO, Alomogordo, NM and then back to Texas. First saw a .45 Colt in a school locker in St. Louis. Wasn't mine. Also learned about drinking Shlitz and cutting school in St. Louis. Most importantly, I learned that the Old Man could hold me a foot above the floor with one arm and talk quietly. He never talked quietly. Very scary. Had to do with cutting school for two weeks straight. Alamogordo is where I gained my interest in Harley's. Actually, that isn't true. Somewhere between 1956-58 my Uncle gave me ride on his K-Model. Never forgot that sound. Always knew I'd have one of my own. Alamogordo in 1967 was during the begining of the "biker movies", The Wild Angels, Angels Unchained, yada yada. All before EasyRider. Saw them all. Me and my buddies had grand idea's of getting chopped harley's and terrerozing the state. We even formed an MC, Loser's Poeple. Was supposed to be Loser's People but I mispelled People on the first t-shirt and we decided to leave it. The "gang" had one motorcycle, mine. A 1967 Honda Trail 50. One member did score an old 45 from an airmen that was being transferred. It was about half way chopped and wouldn't start. Three of us spent an afternoon taking turns kicking on the motherfucker. Results? The owner was launched over the apes at one point, another guy had the heel ripped off of his Beatle boots. I limped around for two days afterward with a sore knee. If only we had understood the concept of an advance. Hey, at least we had the desire. The Honda 50 was the first, and last, bike engine I ever tore down completely, reassembled and it worked! I graduated from the Honda to a Bridgestone 90. Fast little fuck. Then briefly to my Dad's Moto Guzzi 125 Sprint America. The cc rating climbed from there. One of the scariest, as far as fast scary, bikes I ever had was a 1984 Honda Sabre 750. Solid black, cafe-racer style fairing, extremely quick. If you weren't ready for IMMEDIATE acceleration when you twisted the throttle, you would end up on the ground. Make ya wet your drawers. That thing spooked me so I sold it. Life progressed and so did my desire for a Harley. Never was quite able to reach that goal though. Jap bikes were cheaper and got me in the wind but, there was just something missing. After many years and many missed oportunites (we can't afford a Harley!, the price of a Harley will put the kids through college, you'll put your eye out...), my dream never died. High school was finished in Texas. I graduated in 1969. The event was over-shadowed by some guy stomping around on the moon. Started college, stopped, started, stopped, etc. Maybe have a total of 37 hours. Never actually figured out a major. Made high marks in writing. Go figure. Drew #042 during the 1970 draft. Military, not pro ball. Received notice to report for the physical in 1971. Had always wanted to be a Marine so, during the 3 hour bus ride to Amarillo, TX for the physical, I decided I would become a Marine. After the physical, an Army surgeon told me congratulations because I was going home. Too blind. I argued with him until he threatened to have me carried out. I was pissed. Tried every branch of the service after that over the next 16 years. Had to give up when I hit 36. I am now secure in the knowledge that being 1Y, I will be called up if we are ever invaded. By Martians. Even though ALL of the Vets who served in Viet Nam (Thank you Guys) have told me I was lucky not to have been inducted, I will always feel I missed something important. There was a kid on that bus ride that had a foot and half tall stack of medical records, x-rays and letters from mayors and congressmen. He said his Dad had promised him he wouldn't have to be in the service and fight in an unjust war. The kid was drafted and probably got sent to Vietnam. For many years I hoped that he had indeed went over there and got his ass shot off. About 15 years ago I realized what a fucked up attitude that was. I really hope the guy served without any problems. I have worked as a maintenance controller (figure that one out), laborer, carpenter, roofer, oil patch truck driver (18 wheel tanker full of raw gasoline over roads 4-wheelers fear), oil well cementer (?), zoo keeper (raised a tiger that tried to eat me), convenience store clerk, jailer (there are some strange people in jail), security guard (shot a door), engineering technician, systems support specialist and who knows what else. The period between 1969 and 1977 are a bit foggy. Been married twice. First time in 1971 for about 5 years. She kept taking off and coming back, screwing every guy she met. Finally divorced her. 33 years later, she came back into my life, became my best friend and roommate and then left again. Seems she hadn't changed that much over 30 years. At least the last time, she told me she was leaving. Oh well, never again. If you'd like to see a picture of her best asset, send me email and ask. Pretty nice actually. The second time I was married to the anti-christ. Two daughters by the first marriage, one son by the second. The daughters cause me grief. The son is a hard working, responsible husband and father and is thinking about joining the Marines. In the middle of a war! He wants the training so he can become a cop when he gets out. Poor kid thinks like his old man. I currenly live in northern California. Or, as I lovingly refer to it, the People's Republic of California. I love the countryside here. There is what is referred to as a "living" volcano to the east of me. Here is a more recent view of Lassen Peak taken a few miles from my house. I also have a shot taken about 4K feet from the summit. There is a sleeping volcano to the north. She is said to be sleeping because she last errupted over 250 years ago. According to the Indians. Anyone ever met a 200+ year old anyone? In any case, this is how she looks from the street about 3 miles from my house. Can't take these pictures from my house because this house sort of sits in sort of a hole. The Pacific Ocean is roughly 150 miles to the west. The scary part of California starts about 150 miles south of me. My roommate since 1997 has been my 92-year old Grandmother. Not sure who looks out after who. She is the best roommate I have ever had. Not sure she considers me the same but at least she hasn't run me off. She has two cats, Butch and Samantha. She says they are my cats. She takes care of them. Either way, they are pretty cool. In 1996 I lost my mind. Really. SchizoAffective Disorder, Bipolar Type. In laymen's terms, I'm a manic depressive that sometimes see's and hears things that aren't really there. Evil Elvis is mentally ill. Scary huh. I am on Social Security disability because of this. Would rather not be as I was raised with a very strong work ethic and have worked all my life. It is a difficult thing to accept the fact you are now one of the people you used to make fun of. I have major problems remembering and focusing on things. Sometimes I see and hear things that aren't really there. So far, I have been able to convince myself that those things aren't real. So far. Modern pharmaceuticals help. I think. Really scary, huh. Wanna introduce me to your daughter? Taught myself how to build web pages. Took about 3 weeks. During that 3 weeks, I slept a total of maybe 63 hours out of 504. Most people will sleep around 147 hours out of 504. This is the manic part of being bipolar. I do not recommend this method of learning. I had already spent 14 years in the computer industry. Even with that much experience, because of the disability, it will sometimes take me several days to put together a single page, even with the software that damn near does it for you. By the way, I'm not fishing for sympathy here. Please don't email me and tell me how sorry you feel for me. There are those who are a hell of lot worse off. I know, I have been in the hospital with them. I'm quite happy with my life. The only things that I really miss are reading, playing softball (best catcher there EVER was) and sex. Getting a Shovelhead, or just head, would cure ALL of that. I first climbed on a Harley at the age of 6. Or was it 7. Not real sure. Never forgot the ride or the sound. My Uncle's K-Model. Always knew I would have one. Didn't know it would take almost 40 years to get it. Owned and rode many bikes between 1967 and 2001. Was even given a 1 year old Honda Saber 750 once. Scary fast. Didn't like the way it felt so I sold it. To a cop! Then I found Angel. She is my first Harley. A 1996 XL1200. Mini apes, forward controls, FLHT fuel tank, wide glide front end, custom front and rear fenders, too much chrome and a paint job that only could have done by the previous owner. I would never pick that color. Wait. I did when I bought her. Neve mind. Two weeks after I got her, I decided to make a little 120 mile trip by myself. Mistake. Hadn't ridden in almost 8 years. Half way through the ride, I rode straight through a left hand sweeper. Never have figured out why. Probably fatigue. Angel took over $7K in damage. This is where her new paint came from. This is Angel now. Well, I have cut the exhuast to 36" so there is a tiny difference. Me? Almost $20K in damage. Actually, not that much damage. Dislocated left shoulder, swollen, but not broken, right leg. Sucker was swole (it is too a word!) up for almost a year. Still slightly numb. Strong bones. The last disc in my spine was sort of shoved into the nerve bundle and is still shoved there. Not much they can do about it 'cept for hydrocodone every 6 hours. Just found out that the tendon running from the back of the shoulder through the shoulder joint to the arm, the one that helps you raise your arm, was severed in the accident. The accident was 09/05/2001. That would explain why the pain from the dislocated shoulder never went away. Duh. Now I have gobble Celebrex every day. Oh boy, another medication to take. Look around the site. If you have something you want to say to me, use the email link (the one that says EMAIL). I will add thngs here from time to time.. July 7, 2005 I have constructed websites other than this one. One or two are actually kind of good. I also take care of them. Well, I try to anyway. Wheels-For-Warriors.Org Gary's Motorcycle Service Center Calypso Cycle United Bikers of Northern California Thunder Rolls for Charity I first experienced the Internet in 1982. No browsers, no graphics, no popups. You had to know exactly where you wanted to go and type it in, all of it. Some of the addresses were v-e-r-y long. Just thought I'd relate that for no apparent reason. Maybe I'll write more later.

There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in women. Chief among these is the Mercedes-Benz 380SL convertible.